


Top Yourself

by idiotbrothers



Category: The Dead Weather
Genre: M/M, Multi, RPS - Freeform, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotbrothers/pseuds/idiotbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fact #1: Jack has a wayward mouth. Fact #2: Dean spends entirely too much time thinking about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the events described never took place, yadda yadda yadda. Uh, except for maybe Jack kissing Dean onstage. According to some blurry video footage I'm fairly certain that actually happened once.

Jack had taken to doing this thing where he greeted his bandmates with kisses. Not mere pecks either, like, full-on kisses to the mouth, sometimes with tongue. It would have been more startling if he hadn't kissed each of them onstage at least once at some point in the past. As it was, they just took it in stride. He was kind of notoriously weird like that.  
  
Strangely enough, what bothered Dean specifically wasn't the fact that Jack was kissing him, but that he _wasn't_. Jack would walk into practice looking adrenalized, would throw his arm around LJ and drag him in close, greeting him cheerfully and leaning down to press their lips together. "Hey, Jack," LJ would mutter, shaking his head a little when Jack let him go but smiling all the while, ever so slightly. Alison would knock Jack on the shoulder, say, "Heya, asshole," and he would kiss her, too, flicking his finger at her chin and grinning as they broke apart. And then when he turned to Dean, he'd have nothing to offer him but a "Hi, man," and a tiny nod. Dean wasn't exactly _disappointed_ per se (Wasn't he supposed to be relieved? What was that about?), but he did feel decidedly irritated every time it happened. It just...it felt like he was being excluded, is all. It didn't sit right with him.

"So what's up with Jack, anyway?" He asked Alison once as they were idly sitting around at his house early in the morning. They'd been trying to finish up writing a couple of songs, but hadn't been particularly productive thus far. "What _isn't_ up with Jack," Alison responded, giving him a funny look. "Ask him yourself if you're so interested." Dean frowned. "No, I mean, like. I'm talking about the--uh. How he keeps tongue-fucking you guys like it's normal." Alison stifled a yawn. "Oh, that. He's going through a phase, or something. Probably thinks it'll, like, spice up our creative process. Who knows." Dean traced his fingers around the rim of his empty coffee mug. "Okay, but. Why's he only do it to you guys?" 

"You feeling left out, Dean? I can kiss you for him, if you really want. Secondhand kiss from Jack." Alison pursed her lips exaggeratedly and leaned towards him, laughing when Dean pushed at her shoulder and grumpily mumbled, "Cut it out".

"What're you two talking about?" LJ asked suddenly, making Dean practically jump out of his skin. He always slunk in so quietly that he was undetectable until he drew attention to himself.

"Nothing," Dean said.

"Dean's yearning for Jack's chapped mouth, apparently," Alison corrected. Dean glared at her. "Huh," LJ said, regarding Dean thoughtfully. "I can kiss you for him, if that'd help." 

"Jesus Christ." 

* * *

Several days later, the four of them were hanging out, and Jack was buzzing with energy, like he was tipsy despite it being three in the afternoon. LJ was talking to him about something or other, his quiet voice warm and animated, when Jack cut him off by hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt. "LJ," Jack said, smiling at him with a kind of glazed-over look to his eyes, "C'mere." LJ blinked, smiled back at him. "Sure." He shuffled closer to Jack on the couch, and Jack dragged him practically onto his lap in a single swift motion. They started kissing, open-mouthed, Jack making an obscene groaning noise and trailing his fingers over the side of LJ's neck.

"We're fuckin'...sitting right here..." Dean sputtered, bewildered, but neither of them paid any attention to him. "I don't mind it," Alison piped up brightly, waving her cigarette in Dean's direction. Jack dragged his mouth away from LJ's to crook a finger at Alison and say, "You too." Alison perked up, stubbing out her cigarette. "Oooh, I like," she said, taking a seat at Jack's side and leaning past him to grab at LJ's shirt and pick up where Jack had left off. 

"What the hell is going on," Dean wondered aloud, staring as his bandmates enthusiastically swapped spit, Alison's and LJ's hands roving over Jack's body. Swallowing roughly and averting his eyes, Dean turned and left the room, assuming as he went that the burst of arousal he felt was a result of his not having had sex in months. 

* * *

Dean's confusion and discontentment were beginning to translate into onstage tension. He was making amateur mistakes, stuck in his own head and out of tune with Jack and the others. On one night in particular, he was completely off his game, to the point that there was no way the audience didn't notice. When they'd finished, Dean balked at the sight of Jack headed straight for him, cold intent clear in his eyes. "Dude, look," Dean started before he could get too close, "I know I've been fucking up, but I'll make an effort--I'll--"

Before he could start to make a proper case for himself, Jack slid a hand up his neck and swept him into a kiss. Dean made a startled noise against Jack's mouth, frozen in shock for several seconds. It didn't take him long to snap out of it and kiss back, his hands gripping at Jack's shoulders as Jack's fingers cupped his face. It was over too soon, Jack breaking away and walking offstage like their kiss had been nothing but a momentary lapse in judgment, leaving Dean rooted to the spot with two fingers touched to his bottom lip. LJ came over to stand by Dean, patting his arm in what was probably attempted sympathy. "I was expecting him to punch me out," Dean said, dazed. "He might still do it," LJ noted wisely. Alison squeezed Dean's ass as she slipped past them. "Good luck with that guy, Dean-o. You're gonna need it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said, but she was already gone. 

* * *

 Dean was further aggrieved when nothing changed after that incident. Jack didn't acknowledge that it had happened at all, so Dean didn't either, though it was nagging at him so much that he was actually losing sleep over it. Jack hadn't kissed him since, and he seemed to have gotten over his little habit of locking lips with LJ and Alison at every opportunity, so it probably hadn't meant anything from the start. Something about the thought displeased Dean. After way too much deliberation, he decided to do something about it. 

"Jack, um," Dean initiated awkwardly, nudging at Jack's prone form. "Sleepin'," Jack grumbled, twisting away from Dean's hand. It was four AM on the bus, and they'd been on the road for ages, so it might not have been the best time to try for a heart-to-heart, but Dean was desperate. "C'mon, man, just give me two seconds," Dean pleaded, quickly darting a look over at Alison and LJ to make sure that they were still asleep. Jack groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his face before fixing Dean with a narrow-eyed frown. "What d'you want, Fertita?" Dean swallowed, wiping his palms on his jeans. "I...I wanna talk. About what's been going on with us."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "There's an _us_? This's news to me." Dean licked his lips nervously. "You know what I mean."

"I really don't," Jack said, yawning loudly and tugging a hand through his unruly hair, messing it up even more. His tight black t-shirt had ridden up on his left hip, exposing the pale skin there. Dean caught himself staring and returned his gaze to Jack's face, a little thrown. "Um. You remember how we...We, uh, kissed? That one time?"

"Sure I do. What about it?" 

"What if I told you I wouldn't mind...doing that again...with--with you?" Jack looked at him impassively for a good long minute, making Dean feel like he wanted to sink through the floor, before he abruptly broke into a grin. "Fertita, you horny bastard. Get over here." Dean twitched, looking back at LJ and Alison once again. "You mean, like, _now_? But..."

"Quiet," Jack instructed him, grabbing him by the forearm and pulling him onto his seat. Dean tripped as he went, his face landing inches away from Jack's, their noses brushing. Dean went a little cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact with him. He thought Jack would finally kiss him again, but instead, Jack whispered, "Want me to suck you off?" A spike of desire shot through Dean's gut. "Fuck, I..." 

"I'll take that as a yes." Jack got up, only to sink to his knees at Dean's feet, setting his hands on Dean's belt and making short work of removing it. Deftly unbuttoning Dean's fly and sliding his jeans a bit past his waist, Jack paused to ask, "You okay up there? Not freaking out on me, are you?" Dean's heartbeat was so loud in his ears he thought it was likely it would wake up the others, and he felt a bit like he was going to puke, but he just shook his head rapidly. "I'm fine," he rasped, his voice cracking unconvincingly. Jack smirked up at him, and Dean offered him a shaky smile in return. Seconds later, Jack got his mouth on Dean's cock, and his muddled brain finally shut up.

* * *

"How would you feel about a threesome with Brendan?"

Heat flooded Dean's face. He hadn't seen Brendan since he used to play keys for the Raconteurs back in the day, but the suggestion reminded him of when he'd been sixteen and madly in love with Brendan, touching himself to all sorts of far-fetched fantasies involving his fair-haired classmate. "Funny joke," Dean said, not looking at Jack.

"I'm serious, man. He and I used to fuck around all the time, too, so believe me, he'd be all for it if I asked him." Dean turned over to eye Jack incredulously. "You and Brendan? Really?"

"He's submissive as hell, in case you were curious. Got a big mouth on him, but nail him where it counts and he turns into a needy wreck." Jack took a drag off his cigarette. "I mean that in the best possible way. Damn." Dean could feel himself blushing to the tips of his ears. "I can't believe it took me so long to realize you liked dick." 

Jack gave him a lazy half-smile, exhaling smoke. "You're just dim like that, Fertita." 

* * *

Dean hadn't been totally sure if Jack was serious when he'd brought up Brendan a couple of weeks ago, but as it turned out, he was.

"Hey, baby," Jack crooned in a sickly-sweet voice, manhandling Brendan into an embrace and pressing a wet-sounding kiss to his cheek. "Get off me, motherfucker," Brendan said, but he smacked Jack's ass before they broke apart, looking like he was suppressing a grin. Dean felt slightly out of place, opting to stare moodily at the ground as if he were thinking about something important. "Hey, Dean," Brendan said. "How's it going?" Dean glanced up too quickly. "Hi. I dunno. Okay, I guess. It's, uh...it's been a while."

Brendan smiled warmly at him. "It has. You look good." Dean cleared his throat, itching at his collar. Thankfully, Jack cut in before Dean could say something stupid.

"So," he said, smacking his hands together like they were about to stage a business meeting, "Let's all take our clothes off." Ignoring Jack, Brendan asked Dean, "Are you actually fucking this guy now, or did he just make it up for attention? 'Cause I wouldn't put that past him." Jack huffed, evidently affronted. Dean toyed with a piece of his hair. "No, I...yeah. I kinda thought he was messing with me when he said he'd call you up." 

"Mm. Unfortunately, he's got me wrapped around his finger. The shithead."

"Maybe call me names when I'm not standing right next to you, sweetheart," Jack said. Brendan gave him a peck on the lips. "You know how much your cock means to me, Jack."

"Bet your skinny ass it does."

"I'll take a rain-check on that. I think we're scaring Dean off." Dean shook his head. "I'm good. This just...takes some getting used to. How long have you guys been together?" Jack held up his palms. "Woah, woah. Don't go getting the wrong idea. We're not _together_. There's no _togetherness_ happening here." Brendan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause Jack transcends the bounds of traditional monogamy. He's just _that_ special." Dean inadvertently pulled a face, which made Brendan start laughing uncontrollably. "Shut the fuck up, Brendan," Jack said, actually pouting. Dean was grinning now, too. "So, how do you propose we do this thing?" 

Jack raised his hand eagerly. "How about one of you fucks my ass while the other does my mouth? I've always wanted to try that." Dean nearly choked on his own spit. Brendan patted him on the back consolingly, wiping away tears of mirth with his other hand. "Let's work our way up to that." 

* * *

"Relax," Brendan said, his mouth ghosting over Dean's earlobe. "Sorry," Dean croaked, his breath catching in his throat and his palms beginning to sweat as Brendan skated a hand down Dean's bare chest and fingered at the button of his jeans. "Get on with it," Jack said impatiently, watching the two of them like a hawk. "Just sit back and observe until it's your turn, Jack," Brendan said, yanking Dean's pants down and cupping him over his boxers. Dean made a noise that he would doubtlessly be embarrassed about later, throwing his head back as the pressure of Brendan's hand grew more rhythmic. Brendan crept up Dean's body and nipped softly at his exposed neck, soothing the sting with tiny licks of his tongue. Dean's fists were twisted in the bed sheets, his skin fever-hot and his eyes squeezed shut.

"I had...the biggest crush on you in--in high school," Dean stuttered, writhing as Brendan pulled his pants all the way down and started jerking him with purpose. "Oh?" The movement of Brendan's hand never faltered. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"God, fuck," Dean gasped.

"You can chit-chat about boyhood angst later, Brendan," Jack blurted from his post, his voice sounding strained. "You getting jealous, Jack?"

" _Fuck_ ," Dean moaned, completely overcome. 

* * *

Dean woke up to Jack's hair tickling his nose, his large arm flung over Dean's chest. To his other side, Brendan's curly head was pressed against his shoulder, and Dean could feel his steady breaths wafting across his skin. If not for the very real fact that all three of them were stark naked, Dean might have thought that last night had been nothing but a dream. Shifting his weight on the mattress, Dean tried to move Jack's arm without waking him. Of course, the minute he touched Jack, his eyes flickered open.

"Whuh," Jack questioned, blinking blearily at Dean. "Nothin', just trying to get your heavy arm off my body."

"Oh," Jack said, glancing at the heavy arm in question, yawning, then sliding closer to Dean, his mouth meeting the crook of Dean's neck. Jack's hand crept into Dean's hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands. Dean tilted his head and stared at Jack's sleep-softened face, his eyes shut once more, dark eyelashes standing out against his milky skin. "Take a picture, Dean," Jack mumbled without opening his eyes. Embarrassed, Dean deflected attention from himself by voicing a niggling concern. "I've been wondering," he started, "What was up with that spontaneous kissing thing? Y'know, with LJ and Alison." There was no answer.

"Jack?"

"He was probably trying to catch your eye," Brendan said suddenly, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, one hand raking over his disheveled curls. "What?"

"Yeah," Brendan continued, "He was probably hot for you, but didn't know how to proposition you like a normal person, so he resorted to screwing with your brain." Dean gaped. "Are you fucking serious?" Brendan nodded sagely. "Just ask him how he first got _me_ in the sack. Patrick couldn't quite pull off the act, even though I'm pretty sure Jack actually  _paid_ him to." 

"Lies and slander," Jack said, wide awake now. "Pat groped me out of the goodness of his heart."

"So you're admitting to playing petty jealousy games because you're emotionally constipated?" 

"Fuck off, Benson. Everyone knows you're head over heels for me." Brendan shrugged. "Doesn't change the solid fact that you're a dumbass."

"You two really remind me of an old married couple," Dean mused. "Isn't it disgusting," Brendan said, just as Jack retorted, "We do _not_. We are neither married nor a couple. Don't even get me started on 'old'." 

Dean hummed. "How about, instead of drawing out this conversation..." He trailed off, taking Jack's face between his hands and kissing him fiercely. Jack sucked in an awed breath when Dean released him, licking over his worn mouth. Brendan wolf-whistled, which made Dean duck his head, but any bashfulness he felt was fleeting; he was revved up again and ready to make Jack scream his name. 


End file.
